


Left Smitten In Britain

by Waffle-o (XylB)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Office AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 03:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17015031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/Waffle-o
Summary: In Austin, Texas, they're just two coworkers with an unhealthy amount of sexual tension hovering between them who play games for a living.But five thousand miles away, in London, England, things change a little.





	Left Smitten In Britain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smittenbritain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/gifts).



> A gift for [smittenbritain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/pseuds/smittenbritain) because he sure left me smitten in Britain <3\. 
> 
> (Title from "Road Trip" by NSP!)

“Hey, hey, squish in!” Lindsay says, waving them all in as she steps back to try and fit them all in one photo. Ryan’s squeezed between Alfredo and Jeremy – and he hasn’t missed the way Jeremy looped an arm over his shoulders to keep them steady, leaning precariously off their chairs for this project.

“Three, two, one!” Lindsay calls, and Ryan smiles as brightly as he can – the flash goes off and all of them complain, Geoff the loudest, as Lindsay sets up another one. The hanging lanterns in the restaurant reflect off of glasses and plates to shine directly into their eyes, and there’s laughter from the other end of the table, and someone accidentally shoves them all and Ryan apologises through wheezy laughter when it makes him inadvertently elbow Alfredo in the ribs.

“Say London!” Lindsay calls this time, and they try through their snickering.

Lindsay very undaintily steps off the chair and everyone starts unsticking, falling back into their chairs and their conversations as Lindsay uploads the photo. Moments later, Ryan’s pocket buzzes with a tag notification, but he’s still distracted by the way Jeremy hasn’t...actually moved away yet. He retracted his arm when Ryan leant away from Alfredo, but he hasn’t scooted his chair away, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to, his arm nudging Ryan’s as he talks with Steffie on his other side.

“So, you ready for tomorrow?” Jeremy quips a few minutes later, startling Ryan out of his jetlagged stupor. Ryan blinks, tearing his gaze from his glass to look at Jeremy.

“You okay there, pal?” Jeremy asks through an amused smile, and Ryan laughs raggedly.

“Yeah, just a little jetlagged,” he says. “Be fine after some sleep.”

“Well, hey, don’t pass out on me now,” Jeremy says. “We’re just getting ready to leave.”

“We are?”

Jeremy laughs, a sound almost as bright as the lanterns’ reflections, and Ryan can’t help his answering grin.

“Yeah, they’re just splitting the bill,” he confirms. “You want help getting up?”

“I’m tired, not _drunk_ ,” Ryan insists, successfully pushing himself up to standing the same time as Jeremy.

“At least let me walk you back,” Jeremy grins, playfully offering up an arm.

“We’re staying in the same hotel,” Ryan deadpans, forcing his hand to stay firmly by his side.

“Exactly,” Jeremy says, and Ryan laughs despite himself, gesturing for Jeremy to lead the way away from the table.

\-- 

The first day of RTXL leaves them all with a weird mix of fatigue and adrenaline, and most of them end up with the latter by dinnertime. Gavin and Geoff suggest a pub – and a pub _quiz_ , and that’s the sentence where Ryan taps out, wishing them good times and retreating to the hotel by himself to try and Google a good, quiet place nearby.

“Ryan – Ryan!”

Ryan whips around at the call of his name, blinking in surprise at the sight of Jeremy behind him, half-jogging to catch up with him under the hotel awning.

“Jeremy,” Ryan says, and just that brings a smile to Jeremy’s face. “Forget your key?”

“What? No, I, uh, I wanted to – uh.”

“Pub quiz?” Ryan asks, and Jeremy shakes his head.

“Not in the mood,” he says, glancing up at Ryan. “Thought maybe we could get dinner? Just the two of us?”

Ryan’s mouth opens and closes and Jeremy sucks in a breath, maybe to backpedal, and Ryan abruptly spits out an answer so Jeremy doesn’t retract the offer.

“It’d be nice,” Ryan says honestly, and Jeremy’s grin is brighter than the stage lights. “Let me just find a place – ”

“Oh, I know a place,” Jeremy says confidently. “Not too far.”

“Sure,” Ryan says with a shrug, and almost takes Jeremy’s hand on instinct. “Lead the way,” he says instead, stuffing his hands into his pockets to quash that urge.

\-- 

It’s not private, but the way Jeremy treats it is almost _intimate_ , asking for a table at the back, leaning in to talk to Ryan, a hand hovering over his elbow like he wants to touch but is hesitating, and god, Ryan _loves_ it. They order two pizzas to split because they can’t decide on toppings, Jeremy orders soda for them both, and Ryan marvels at the way that Jeremy makes a restaurant of fifty people in the capital of England feel like they’re back in Austin sharing burgers in the office on a lunch break when everyone else has gone out.

It’s been a weird sort of back-and-forth between them ever since Ryan started crushing on Jeremy – odd glances across the office, strange not-quite-affectionate touches between filming, almost-dates disguised under convenience, an empty void where neither of them have vocalised anything yet, but if Ryan’s not terribly, completely,  _disastrously_ wrong, then Jeremy seems to like him back just as much.

But the cowardly, probably _smart_ part of Ryan still makes him hang back whenever an opportunity arises, a voice in the back of his head that tells him that what they have right now is _good_ , that they’re great friends, and pushing it to something more might shatter one of the best relationships Ryan’s had with someone in years. Not that he doesn’t like his other coworkers; there’s just something about Jeremy, something enthralling, something endearing about Jeremy that makes Ryan feel lighter on his feet, absolutely enchanted by Jeremy’s sweet little gestures, from fast-food lunches to sharing straws to – togoing out to dinner with him instead of a pub quiz with their friendsfive thousand miles across the ocean.

And in that five thousand miles across the ocean, leagues away from home, from their normal, it’s easier to fall into the little fantasy. Ryan leans in closer than he would in the office, doesn’t flinch when Jeremy knocks their feet, doesn’t even bat an eyelash when Jeremy pulls him in for a selfie in the little square outside at the end. Although even Jeremy doesn’t pull away from their position as he edits and posts the photo, leaning against Ryan like that’s normal for him.

Ryan likes to think maybe it _could_ be normal for them.

Swept up in his little heart-fluttery thoughts, Ryan loops an arm around Jeremy’s shoulder, peering over his shoulder to see the caption while the Italian restaurant pumps out soft pop into the noisy square.

_Hitting up London with my Battle Bu_

Jeremy looks up from where he’s typing, and the song changes, and Ryan starts to pull his arm back – but Jeremy grabs it before he can withdraw completely. And doesn’t let go, his fingers curled loosely around Ryan’s forearm, almost lost in thought while he turns back to the caption.

Their arms dangle between them, awkwardly caught between holding hands and affectionate brush, and Ryan decides, for once, to tip it towards the one he wants more.

The tips of Jeremy’s ears flush pink when Ryan’s fingers settle between his, but he doesn’t pull away. He squeezes, and clears his throat, and pockets his phone.

“Well, what you wanna do?” Jeremy asks. He’s not talking about the handholding, and Ryan’s secretly glad that Jeremy isn’t confronting that yet. Ryan shrugs, glancing around the square.

“Could explore,” he says, looking back at Jeremy. “I’m sure there’s shit around.”

“You have no idea where you are, do you?” Jeremy laughs, gently bonking his head against Ryan’s shoulder. A flush of affectionate warmth spreads through Ryan.

“Nope,” he says, grinning. “You’re my tour guide.”

“Guess I better not lose you, then,” Jeremy jokes, already pulling Ryan along to the narrow alley leading away from the square.

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t,” Ryan says, and there’s about a second of fond understanding before he decides it would be _remiss_ to not finish that statement. “I’m taller than the crowd.”

“Did you just – _after_ I paid for dinner? Really?”

Ryan coughs to cover his laugh and Jeremy shoots him a look – but the crinkles in the corners of his eyes betray him, despite his grumbling, and he doesn’t let go of Ryan’s hand.

\-- 

“Hey, you going to the party? We made it out of another RTX,” Jack asks on their way back to the hotel, bags and other shit from the convention centre gathered in their hands.

“Nah, I’ve got a flight in the morning,” Ryan says.

“Wait, you’re going back _tomorrow_?” Jeremy asks in a burst, leaning around Jack.

“Yeah,” Ryan answers. Shrugs. “Didn’t see any point in staying past the convention when I booked it.”

“Can’t believe Ryan’s skipping on _London_ to go to work,” Michael teases behind them.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll finally get some actual work done,” Ryan jokes. “Without Gavin fucking launching Moonballs at my head every five seconds.”

“All right, it’s not _that_ often!”

“I’m honestly surprised we didn’t get beaned on stage with those,” Jack says.

“Maybe you can get them peace-bonded.”

“How would you peace-bond a projectile, Geoff?”

“I dunno, tie one of those cables around it? Look, I don’t know.”

“S’ppose you could like, tie a bunch around in a little cage.”

“Fantastic, now it’s a projectile with _hard plastic_ around it. Genius, Gav.”

“You haven’t got any better ideas, Michael,” Gavin giggles.

“No shit I don’t, I’m tired as fuck.”

\-- 

Ryan’s just stepping out of the shower when there’s a knock on his door, calling out for the person to _wait a second, please!_ while he pulls on some clothes.

It’s Jeremy, who pauses and blinks for a second when Ryan tugs his shirt down the rest of the way.

“Yeah?” Ryan asks breathlessly, leaning against the door like it’ll help the way his heart jumps into his throat.

“I, uh, we’re about to go out,” Jeremy says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “And, uh. Wanted to say bye before we left? ‘Cause I probably won’t see you again before you go, but uh, safe travels.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I didn’t – when are you coming back?”

“Thursday,” Jeremy says, scratching his chin. “I’ll be back in work on Friday.”

“Wow,” Ryan says. “It’ll be quiet without you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Jeremy smiles.

“Guess uh, guess I’ll see you then, then?” Ryan says.

“Yeah, just, uh, wanted to uh. Safe travels and shit. Dunno. Just seems different over here, felt like I should stop by.”

Ryan nods, slowly at first, and then normally, meeting Jeremy’s gaze for a beat too long and waiting what feels like an eternity to speak.

“It is different,” he says, carefully talking-not-talking about the handholding from last night, or the way Jeremy stands two inches closer to him than before, or just the overall atmosphere, a sweet, affectionate little fantasy that makes Ryan wish he’d chosen to stay in London a little longer.

“Fun different,” Jeremy says.

“Good different,” Ryan agrees, and realises that he could just – dip his head, and lean in, and –

“I’ll miss you,” Jeremy says, plays it off with a smile and a laugh, and his breath fans out over Ryan’s chin.

“You too,” Ryan agrees. He licks his lips, and breaks the eye contact to glance down. Jeremy sucks in a breath, his whole frame swinging slightly as his head tilts just a few millimetres off-centre, hesitant, slow, and Ryan starts to close the gap, the very tip of his nose brushing Jeremy’s –

Shrill ringing jars them apart, Jeremy rushing to silence his phone in his hand and Ryan still reeling, the moment thoroughly broken. They share a look, and Ryan knows his cheeks are tinged pink, his mouth parted with the almost.

“Getting impatient,” Jeremy says, holding his phone up. “They’re waiting in the lobby for me.”

“Better not keep them waiting,” Ryan manages. “Might come up here and drag you down themselves.”

 _I’d like to see them try_ , Ryan’s expecting, with a scoff and a laugh.

“You’re more important,” Jeremy says instead, and it knocks Ryan off-balance in the most pleasant way.

“Flatterer,” he jokes weakly. There’s too much space between them now for Ryan to blame anything on fantasy, on heat-of-the-moment, and neither of them make a move to close the gap. Jeremy clears his throat.

“Well, uh, I’ll see you Friday?” He asks.

“See you Friday,” Ryan replies, and Jeremy lingers for a handful of seconds before giving him a little wave and heading back down the corridor.

Ryan shuts the door firmly behind Jeremy and lets out a shuddering breath, running a hand through his hair as he heads back to the bathroom. His lips are still tingling with the almost. 

\-- 

Later that night, there’s another knock on Ryan’s door. He opens it with some odd, hidden hope that maybe Jeremy came back for something – but it’s room service, greeting him with an amiable smile and a cart.

Ryan didn’t order room service, but he lets them in anyway, although with a few questions.

“Is, uh, is this charged separately or just to the room?” He asks.

“It’s already paid for,” the man says, setting the tray and cutlery on the little table in Ryan’s room.

“It is?” Ryan asks, dumbly, and the man just smiles, tugging an envelope out of his pocket and handing it to Ryan.

“I think you might have a secret admirer, sir,” he says, and pulls the cart out of the room. Ryan barely remembers to call out a thank you before the door swings shut, and then he opens the envelope.

_On me. Might as well make your last night in London a nice one. - J_

If the initial didn’t give it away, the handwriting did, and Ryan laughs quietly as he lifts the cover on the plate. He’s both impressed by Jeremy’s ability to sneak him an entire steak dinner hours later and warmed by the gesture – there’s even two cans of chilled Diet Coke on the tray, next to an overturned glass, and Ryan shakes his head as he sits down, gladly popping the tab.

There’s worse ways to spend his last night.

\-- 

“Hi, yes, I’d like to check out, please?” Ryan asks at the desk the next morning, his bags gathered around him.

“Yes, just the room key, sir, and let me see if there any outstanding charges.”

Ryan drops his key obediently on the desk and, upon spying the sign advertising the breakfast service, turns back to the receptionist.

“Actually,” he says. “Could I order a breakfast room service before I go?”

“Sir?”

“Uh, for a friend. He’s also staying here.”

With a little more explanation and his credit card, Ryan manages to get the order placed, and even asks for a piece of paper and envelope to be delivered with it. The lady gives him a knowing smile and pushes the paper forward with a pen – Ryan takes it with a nervous laugh and quickly scribbles out his message before he leaves.

_Would have been nicer with you. - R_

_\--_

The office is...too quiet. Ryan does go in on Tuesday, despite the fact he’s the only one in the main room, and he does actually get some work done. It’s nice, and peaceful, and he can actually get around to fixing Geoff’s monitor without someone Moonballing him, but it’s...quiet.

Michael and Lindsay are back on Wednesday, and that at least means Ryan can film some stuff with them, and clean up the office, although that’s almost pointless by now. By Thursday, most everyone’s back, except for Geoff, Jeremy, and Gavin, who fucked off from London onto wherever he’s shooting next, and won’t be back for another two weeks or so.

By Friday, Ryan’s wishing he _had_ kissed Jeremy in that London hotel room, only five days ago but it feels like months. In fact, he’s wrapped up in one of those daydreams when Jeremy _does_ come back, bursting in early like he always does – and thanks to the jetlag, Ryan’s in stupid early as well, half-dozing, half-working in his chair while he waits for his coworkers.

“Ryan! Didn’t expect to see you here this early, buddy,” Jeremy says, plopping down in his chair.

“Jetlag,” Ryan deadpans, cracking open his can of soda. Jeremychucklesgood-naturedly.

“Oh, thanks for the breakfast, by the way,” Hesays, shrugging his jacket off. “And the note,” he adds, after a pause.

“Yeah,” Ryan says, focusing on his blank screen. “Had to repay the favour.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Jeremy looks at him over the monitors. Ryan gazesback, distracted slightly by how attractive the lopsided curve of Jeremy’s smile is.

Before either of them can say anything, Michael busts in, two coffees in hand and a holler in his throat, and Ryan goes back to looking at his blank screen.

\-- 

The next week is frustrating, to say the least. Their busy work schedule doesn’t leave Ryan much time for fantasy, and he can’t tell if the space between him and Jeremy is different now, good different,  _fun_ different – or if it’s the same as it was before, and he left his chances across an ocean.

He’d like to _think_ it’s different, but it’s hard to gauge with how little alone time they have. They still share lunches, and sometimes dinners, but none have given Ryan a good opportunity to explore that good different again.

Amusingly enough, it ends up being during filming that they finally have the time to go past normal conversation. They’re using the streaming room for once, with the proper soundproofing and lighting, headphones off and controllers on for a Battle Buddies in Hitman.It’s a long video, with a lot of waiting, and Ryan can already tell they’re going to have to cut a lot of it, which is mostly why he feels free to talk. Just has to make sure he’s saying nothing incriminating when there’s something interesting happening.

But it’s not even Ryan that starts it.

“Your note,” Jeremy says, half an hour in, his thumbs hovering over the sticks.

“Mhmm,” Ryan hums.

“With the breakfast. Did you mean it?”

Ryan sucks in a breath. Glances over the few inches that separate them. Jeremy’s staring at the screen.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I did.”

In-game, the target moves to the balcony. Neither of them make to shoot him. Silence passes by in editing cut minutes. Ryan is intensely aware of the arm of Jeremy’s chair bumping his.

“Back in – ”

“Can we – ”

Both of them stop and look at each other, colouring as they laugh awkwardly.

“You can go first,” Jeremy says, flashing him a little smile.

“Back in London,” Ryan starts again. Clears his throat. “Does it – do you still think...it was good different?” The question feels like a jumble in his throat. Jeremy’s fingers twitch on the controller.

“It wasn’t because of London,” Jeremy says. Ryan doesn’t miss the hint. Meets his eyes.

And maybe it’s the atmosphere, the feeling, of a stolen moment in a private room in a busy office, so much like a quiet hallway of a bustling hotel, with nothing to distract and no one to interrupt, and there’s a quiet little part of Ryan that becomes a little louder, that lets him fall into the fantasy, and glance down at Jeremy’s lips, parted with a breath, and he thinks of the _almost_ and the _not-quite_ and –

“Can I?” Jeremy asks quietly, already leaning in, and Ryan nods so quickly he almost feels dizzy and Jeremy’s hand slots in perfectly over his cheek when he kisses him, soft and sweet and oddly _familiar_ , and Ryan’s not the only one pulling in a shaky breath when they separate.

Without even thinking, Ryan drops the controller on the desk and rests a hand on the back of Jeremy’s neck to urge him in for another, already thoroughly addicted to the tiny thrill it sends through him.

It’s only been a few seconds but it feels like hours when Jeremy speaks again, his lips brushing against Ryan’s with each word.

“We should probably finish filming first,” he mumbles, even though he lets Ryan kiss him again through their laughter, and it swiftly becomes one of Ryan’s favourite moments.

Although Larry’s _definitely_ going to have to cut this.


End file.
